Expect
by Shankz1
Summary: Post Hogwarts. Ron comes to England to tell Hermione how he feels. Too late.
1. Default Chapter

He opened the door into the beautifully painted, orange house

He opened the door into the beautifully painted, orange house. Walking down the hall, he stopped and looked into a large, gold mirror. He fixed his tie and moved a comma of hair out of his blue, world-like eyes. He continued down the hall. Hundreds of paintings and pictures hung throughout the corridor, some were winking and waving, whilst some stayed still and stiff as rocks.

Finally reaching the stairwell at the end of the long hall, he looked up, took a deep breath, and pressed on. After about three flights of stairs, he walked in a white door in the middle, on the right side. 

"Hermione?" He peered in, and saw a wave of brown hair on the back of a chair. Walking closer, he saw her reading a book. "Hermione?" he whispered again, and she turned around, rather surprised.

"Ron?" she cried, standing on the chair both to greet him and to meet up with his tremendous height. "You're back! How was France?"

"Alright, I suppose. I'd rather be here than there." He shrugged.

"Oh," She said shortly. "If I remember, it was very beautiful there, in France, I mean. So, how are your parents? I haven't seen them since I dropped by the Ministry to give them some papers, and your mother was there."

"Good, I suppose."

"You 'suppose'?"

"I haven't seen them yet. I owled them last week, if that's what you meant."

"Oh. Yes, well. Ottery St. Catchpole's far too far from here. So I can't very well drop in." Hermione smiled.

Ron was looking down, fixated on her hand.

"A-are you married?"

"Wh- er… Yes." She caught Ron's eye and looked away.

"How long?"

"About two years, actually."

"Well, who is he? Do I know him?"

"I think so. He's an Auror. So, truly, I haven't seen him in about nine months."

"Is it Harry?" Ron asked before thinking.

Hermione looked shocked and sighed. "No. His name is Connor Daily. He was a Ravenclaw. I met him when I went to visit Harry at work."

"Oh. Well, Congratulations. But, it's a bit late, I s'pose."

Hermione half smiled and asked. "Well, what have you done since you've been back in Britain?" 

"I Apparated, and came here."

The smiled faded away, and she sat back in the chair.

"Really?"

"Just got in an hour ago." He said checking his watch.

"Where are you staying?"

"Well, The Burrow, I suppose."

"That's too far away from here!" Hermione cried. "I guess you can stay here for the evening. Remember what I said."

"Thanks, Mione. I can't Apparate there. Ministry rules. I think it's rather stupid. Did you hear? Something about Death Eaters is able to attack through transporting people to the wrong place. Telekinetic situations, something like that. Hmm.. Have any Floo powder on you?"

"No, actually. I usually just go the Muggle ways. Just stay here, Lord knows I'm already hoping Harry will come home, and Connor, let alone you."

"But I'm not an Auror. Death Eaters don't go after Quidditch Reserve Players for other countries terribly too often." He muttered. Hermione knew he absolutely hated the fact the only team that would take him was the French Reserve Team. 

"Ron, they go after everyone." She shook her head and led him into another bedroom across the hall. "So you're going to stay here, for tonight." And she left the room without any further discussion.

Ron sat in the bedroom Hermione had let him use and was blown away.

_If he's an Auror, than I'd like to see Harry's house, he's a famous one. I still can't believe she's married. Something told me I should've just gone to the Burrow, instead of here. Now I'm stuck. Great. I should've just told her years ago. But now she's married. We graduated ten years ago, Weasley! Get over it Hermione's gone. _

"Ron?" Hermione peeked into the guest bedroom. "Do you want to go out to eat with me? I'm a horrible cook."

He blinked. "The Hermione Gr- Daily can't cook?" 

He grinned wider than a Cheshire cat. "Does that mean you can't magic something to eat?"

Hermione put her hands on her hips and replied, "I can make food by magic, but I don't care to, being as I live in a Muggle neighbourhood. And it's still Hermione Granger."

"I'm s'posin' your neighbours don't come in the ruddy house too much. With your husband always gone and moving pictures. The owls. Is that old fruit Crookshanks still around here?"

"Muggles have a thing called 'the British Navy'. Used to be the biggest, before America and all. I think…I was never good at Muggle history. Well, I was, of course, but you get the point!" She said it all so fast Ron just blinked a few more times and didn't even attempt to translate Hermione-ish. "No. My neighbours never come here. They're not my favourite people to live next door to. But I did like the house."

"Whatever." Ron muttered. "So what's for eating? I've never had Muggle food."

"It's similair to our food, Ron. Practically the same." Hermione answered, closing the door of her townhouse and leading him into the street.

"Okay… well, where are we going?" he asked walking on the sidewalk.

"There's a nice pub up the street you might enjoy." 

"Muggle food? Dad'd be ecstatic. Well, before he tasted it, anyway."

Hermione laughed and walked on. 

"What's Connor like?" Ron asked Hermione. A surprised look crept across her face and transformed into a smile.

"Well, he's tall. But not even close to as tall as you are. He's got this brownish-blonde coloured hair, and it's really thick. His eyes are blue, but not even near as blue as yours."

"Sounds a bit like Lockhart. Are you sure he's not about fifty and has all blonde hair?" Ron teased her.

"No." She nudged him. "That's the pub." They sat down, and ordered their drinks, and she continued. "He's from Liverpool. Um… I think I'm going to divorce him…"

"What?" Ron asked spitting out his Pepsi, out of surprise (and sheer happiness).

"Yes, well, he's nice. But I don't know. I can't work because I'm too busy wondering if he's all right in Germany-- Did I mention that's where he is? And I don't know. He's never here. I miss that. I married him because he was fun, and we'd go to the theatre and eat out. And the fact, that He was the bookkeeper there. He was the last man they'd send out. But they did. And the-the f-f-f-f" Hermione was close to tears, and now engulfed in them.

"Hermione-" Ron started. "Er… checks please!" 

After Hermione choked out the correct money from her purse to give to the waitress, and Ron collected her and left.

By the time they reached the house, Hermione was flat out producing more water than the Hoover Dam. 

"Ron, I'm really sorry. I really am." She yawned, sitting on the couch in the parlour.

"S'not a big deal." Ron replied, coming in to the room with two Vegemite sandwiches. "I made dinner." He shrugged. "S'nothing big, but this huge Beater on the team, he's from Brussels or something, made me make them for him."

"Thanks Ron, it's very-" she took a bite of it and attempted to swallow. "Good.. Well, maybe that's not the word for it, but anyhow."

"A lot of people don't fancy it." He took a huge bite and swallowed. "But I'm used to it."

"The Iron Stomach. You always were. I guess because you were always so tall, and so much stronger than Harry and I." Hermione laughed. "I always wondered why you were so skinny, but you're so tall it didn't really matter."

"I loved being kids. No one worried about anything. Well, except Voldemort. Actually, I think I'm talking about something else…. We did have a lot to worry about. Harry for one thing."

Hermione looked down and finished her sandwich. "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning! You can watch the telly; you know how to work it? I showed you in our fifth year when you came over for holiday."

After Hermione left, there wasn't much for Ron to do. Nothing was on the television so he got up, and decided to turn in.

_I wonder why she'd want to divorce Connor. I mean, he sounds so much better looking than me. _He thought, walking up the stairs and stopping at a large picture he hadn't noticed earlier. 

There were many people, and Ron noticed most of them, smiling and waving. On one side there were some men with black dress robes, and women with lilac robes on the other side. Meeting in the middle with what appeared to be a bride and a groom.

It hit Ron immediately that it was Connor. That was his 'competition'. 

_Great. I have a lot of a chance. Bloody wedding, bloody house, bloody everything! Hermione's never going to love me after that. I've seen the ring. Mine would look like a piece of tin next to that. I'm too late. Just a bit too late._

That night, Ron slept the worst he had ever slept in his twenty-seven years of life. The next morning, he searched the second and third stories for Hermione, and finally found her downstairs, in the kitchen.

She was hunched over a letter, next to a great Snow Owl. Ron moved closer and saw the red tie around its neck. _Ministry Owl_. Ron thought. He sat on the table, behind the island Hermione was leaning on. And saw she was crying.

"Hermione?" Ron asked carefully. She turned around, dropped the letter and ran into his arms.

"Ron! It's terrible!" she cried, soaking the front of his robes. 

"What is?" Ron asked.

"Here!" she leaned over and handed him the letter off the floor.

It read:

Dear Mrs. Granger-Daily,

We are sorry to inform you, but on Auror work in Germany, Mr. Connor Winslow Daily has been found killed. His fellow Aurors did everything they could to safe him, as an unidentified Death Eater captured him and put him under the Imperius Curse, then slowly tortured him, and told him to perform Avada Kedavra on himself. On behalf of the British Ministry of Magic, we are sorry.

Sincerely,

Penelope Weasley,

Minister of Magic

P.s- I am sorry, 'Mione. Connor was a nice man. I hope next time I talk to you it isn't under these circumstances.

Ron dropped the letter, speechless. 

A/N- the sandwich bit, is supposed to be like a verse in a little song called "Land Down Under" (I think) and I also think it was Men at Work, and if I'm wrong, sorry. It was a stupid idea and I couldn't resist. I know "Winslow" wasn't a terribly good name. I looked up 'Connor' and it either means 'knowledge' or 'perfect' or something.. I forgot. And Winslow's an inside joke. 

Disclaimer: JK Rowling rocks hard.


	2. Chapter Two

A few days had gone by, mostly of Hermione locking herself in her room all day. Which was odd for Ron who Hermione had forgotten was still staying in her house as a guest.  
  
"Hermione?" he knocked at her door softly, with a tray containing a cup of tea and a slice of toast. To his surprise, she opened up brightly, smiling.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Ron! I've already had breakfast. Made it when you were sleeping."  
  
"Oh. I'm going to visit my family at the Burrow today, so thank you for having me this past we-"  
  
"Let me go with you! Penelope, Percy and your father already know, but I want to personally invite them to the funeral. And I haven't visited them in ages."  
  
"You've already planned it?" Ron asked blankly.  
  
"Honestly, you've known me long enough to know I've taken off work at the Ministry for five days and did nothing?" Hermione asked. "Silly Ronnikins. Come on, we'll Apparate."  
  
Hermione and Ron arrived at the Burrow at eleven thirty, and rang the bell.  
  
Mrs. Weasley opened the door and hugged Ron. "Ron! You're back! How nice to see you Hermione," she turned to her. "I'm so sorry about Connor. He did what he had to do."  
  
"I know. I'm fine." Hermione said walking in. "It took awhile, and I'm still upset, but not as devastated. It's just the last few things I remember about him is that huge fight we got into a few days before they sent him…" Hermione trailed off.  
  
"What fight?" Ron asked as he walked into the parlour and saw Percy, Penelope, their daughter Phoebe, his father, and Ginny.  
  
"Hullo," Ginny said, getting up and hugging her older brother. "Long time no see. What'd you do? Run out of paper in France?"  
  
Ron laughed and sat down. "I've been busy. I've heard they were going to promote me to the team. But I dunno, I don't really want to play for France. I only took the job because I was hoping the Cannons would see me fly and hire me. But I'm beginning to give up."  
  
"Don't give up, Uncle Ron." Phoebe said, sitting on the ottoman. "Uncle Fred and Uncle George didn't and they got their joke shop, and now I get all of the stuff half off." If you lined all of the Weasleys up, and had to tell whose daughter she was, you'd say one of the twins.  
  
She had the trademark Weasley height and skinniness, and after mass debate with the Weasleys and Penelope, she was sorted into Gryffindor. Wearing a mass array of colours of her sleeveless robes (which seemed to be patches and different coloured fabric charmed to flash colours) with a mango coloured shirt and greenish blue, extremely long boy's Muggle shorts. Around her neck she wore what looked like a cat collar, on her arm a wristband and half a sleeve. But, her hair wasn't so Weasley-ish. Penelope's hair being brown and curly and Percy's being a fire red, hers was auburn like hair with natural orange streaks, and not so natural green in it.  
  
"You've dyed your hair since I've last seen you, haven't you?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Penelope, I told you people would notice that patch of green. You should've never let her charm it!" Percy shot at his wife.  
  
"Perce, honey, I only made that up so you wouldn't make a big deal about it. Just say it's artistic expression." She reasoned.  
  
"'Artistic Expression'?" Percy asked. "Yes, is it 'Artistic Expression' when she has four rings in her nose? Is it 'Artistic Expression' when she has tattoos all over her? Tell me, is it 'Artistic Expression' when she joins one of those Flying Motorcycle Gangs? Huh? Huh? Penelope, tell me that?"  
  
"Calm down!" Penelope near yelled "That's why I'm the Minister of Magic. I'll never know why you wouldn't take the job, Mr. Weasley."  
  
"Oh, I'm more than happy in the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts. That's where I work, don't I, Molly? Can't ever remember, I'm getting old." Mr. Weasley laughed.  
  
"Dad," Phoebe turned to Percy. "Seriously, I won't have four nose rings, I'll have five or three if it makes you happy. And I only really want a big tattoo that with a lion eating a Quaffed that says "Gryffindor Phoebe Weasley" or maybe one with an Aardvark…"  
  
"No you won't. Penelope, tell her she won't? What's next? She'll be listening to those Punk Bands… the Tamones, the Flex Pistols, the Stash… all wizards that started out like her. Nice Wizarding families, then they learn spells to dye their hair and look at them now. Phoebe will have a tongue ring before we know it."  
  
"Tongue ring? Honestly, dad, I'd never get one of those, a lip ring maybe…"  
  
"Penny! Make her stop it!" Percy screamed as if she were a monster or something.  
  
"Did we hear 'punks'?" a voice and some snickering from the front door sounded.  
  
Fred and George Weasley ran into the room and practically helped Phoebe, attack her father.  
  
"How's are favourite brother?" George asked.  
  
"And Percy?" Fred added.  
  
"Hullo, Hermione, spiffing to see you, so sorry." George nudged Fred to turn around and greet her.  
  
"Err.. Thanks. Hello. Okay, since you're all here, I'd like to personally invite you all to the funeral. Since my parents died you've all been my second family. So than-"  
  
"WEASLEYS!" the door burst open and Harry Potter himself panted in. "I'm back! Hermione! Ron! Hey, all of the Weasleys are here."  
  
"Yes," Fred replied putting his arms around his twin and niece. "We're a family-family."  
  
"Uh.. Okay, anyways. First off, Hermione, I'm terribly sorry about Connor, and why I'm here." He took a deep breath and finished. "Voldemort's dead." The whole family flinched at the mention of his name. "Didn't you hear? He's gone! It's all over!"  
  
"So you're back? Forever?" Ginny asked, who had been sitting quietly in a chair in the corner throughout the whole conversation.  
  
"Yes! I am." He replied. He looked as famished as excited and fainted in the centre of the room.  
  
"Oh dear," Mrs. Weasley cried. "Ginny, go get Lockhart's Amazing Healing Potion for me. It should be in the kitchen, top shelve."  
  
"Okay, mum."  
  
  
  
As soon as Harry was revived, Hermione bid them Farwell and Ron walked her to the door.  
  
"Thanks for having me over there for the last week." He hugged her good bye.  
  
"Well, remember what I told you when you left for France. You can come by my house anytime you like. You have the spell don't you? Because if you forget it, Aholomara won't work, I programmed it that way, okay? Come anytime of day, remember that. I'm always there. Or at work, of course." She told him.  
  
[A/N- you were wondering why he just came into her house and stayed over, now you know. If you were also wondering, here's the answer to the divorce thing, sometime soon…]  
  
"One question before you leave. What were you talking about? You said you got in a really big fight."  
  
"Oh, that." Hermione said shortly. "Well, Connor didn't tell me he was leaving for Germany. We got in a big fight about it, because he was working late one night and an owl came telling him some important things he needed on his trip. When he came back I exploded and we got in such a fight…."  
  
"Oh. Well, I'm sorry and I'll see you at the funeral, I suppose."  
  
  
  
The day of the funeral started out scorching. There was a large turn out of Ministry workers, Aurors, Weasleys, Daily's and old friends. Mid-way through the funeral, it began to sprinkle, and then full out stormed. Ron offered Hermione an umbrella but she refused.  
  
She was wearing lovely black satin robes, which were presently being soaked in the water. Holding back tears, Hermione didn't want to flood the Cemetery like the rain was.  
  
Turning around, she saw Ginny and Harry under a large red umbrella and Ron walking beside them under a smaller black one. Ginny's purple robes were sagging on the ground, and getting them very wet, but she didn't seem to care, being next to Harry and his usual messy hair.  
  
Hermione sighed and went on walking.  
  
Three Years Later  
  
"Ron seriously," Hermione read out loud what she was writing. "Do you really think that French guys is Napoleon? He must be a nutter, in the words of you. At least he's a good Chaser. Well, I've got to go to work at the Ministry, see you." She took her quill and signed it, "Hermione".  
  
She put the letter in an envelope and put it in her owl, Jesse's mouth. "Send that to Ron, okay? I'm sorry, but he is moving back to England. Unless you've been opening my mail, the Cannons sent him an owl saying they want him on their team. So he's finally playing professional. It's not reserve, either. I'm so happy for him."  
  
'Dear Hermione,  
  
I'm coming back on Thursday. You should've seen Pierre, he's the Captain for the French team, and he was fuming. I can't believe it; I'm playing for the Cannons. Take that Viktor Krum! Ha! I'm just kidding I got over that ages ago. Or did I? No, really. The glory days are coming back for the Cannons. You're so getting Season Passes; I can't let you miss a game. You've been a workaholic since I lost saw you. I'm finally leaving the Quafflepunchers! I was so sick of those pink robes, too girly if you ask me. Yeah, Jacque is mad. He likes the robes, too. Must tell you something.  
  
Ta!  
  
Ron'  
  
"I love getting letters from him." Hermione told her dog, Ignatius. He was a lovely reddish orange colour that reminded her vividly of Ron. "He's so funny. How he says stuff."  
  
Ignatius barked and Crookshanks jumped on the couch next to Hermione.  
  
"Well, I've got to go to the Ministry." She got up and walked to her room. Jabberwocky, her pet parrot hummed happily "I Want to Hold Your Hand".  
  
"Squawk! Workaholic! Squawk!"  
  
"Am not." Hermione snapped. She grabbed her bag and ran down the hall.  
  
She opened the door and let out a scream.  
  
"I'm sorry, did I say Thursday?" Ron asked. 


End file.
